


Limitless

by OptikTop



Category: Mystic Messenger (Video Game)
Genre: ALSO SUICIDAL THOUGHTS AND DESCRIPTIONS OF HIGH ANXIETY, M/M, more like V while out on one of his trips, read the notes inside, this isnt aligned with the game plot
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2016-10-22
Updated: 2016-11-11
Packaged: 2018-08-23 22:09:47
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings, No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 6
Words: 9,329
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/8344645
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/OptikTop/pseuds/OptikTop
Summary: V tips his head toward the reaching sun beams to the east, and a traitorous little thought slips into the back of his head:
'what if you don't love Rika?'
His whole world crumbled shortly after.





	1. To Tarry

There is a small town in a place where many can’t really say. It has a name that does not play off of the lips of common folk, nor most of the adventurous travelers. 

Those who find their way to this place are often a wayward soul, lost in spirit or devotion or in turmoil. This is how V found himself here, nestled among the grass of a rolling hill over looking a building. To be more exact, a small church, old and pathetic, rotting from so many years of neglect.

To V however, it shown with an inner beauty he found hard to turn away from. So he sat, carefully snapping pictures of various angles and lights. He did this for hours until the grass became unpleasant and the lack of protection strained his eyes. 

And then he pushed a little harder until he was forced to smother his sight with a handkerchief, carefully cradling the camera in his lap with one free hand. Sometimes like this, it was nice. No noisy horns, or heavy acrid smells, no phone calls, just the gentle breeze caressing his person.

For a moment he could almost pretend like everything was all right.

The sharp ache just behind his eyelids whispers a harsh reminder of the reality at hand. With a tenderness the man carefully folds the fabric over both his eyes, applying light pressure to them. Maybe it would dull the pain, maybe it would block out the memories, the ghost of her voice, a phantom touch of her nails slowly digging into his shoulder.

“It’s time for me to go back,” he declares as calmly as he dare try. A light tremor in his hands give away the emotions rolling deep in the back of his mind. But like most things, this could be bottled up too, he just had to breathe and pretend like it was fine.

No not pretend, it was just fine.

He was fine.

V takes his time in putting his shades back on and packing his various lenses and filers and beloved camera body. Secretly he knows he’s stalling, the town he was staying in had working reception here and there. She knew that too, and no matter how much his heart ached to hear from her. He knew there was a small terrified whimper just under it from the fear of hearing her voice. 

No no.

He loved Rika.

If he didn’t, if he even thought about leaving, he didn’t want to think about what she would and could do.

With a renewed urgency, V extends his cane, double checks the strap on his carrying case, and sets off on the cluttered path back. It takes a good thorough effort to comb over all of the potential hazards his draining eyes couldn’t make out. But V was nothing if not patient and makes it just past a behemoth of a run down building that resided on the edge of the town by the early evening. 

The town was such a tiny place, no bigger than the size of a small shopping mall. Absently he recalled the things he’d mapped out in his time there. 

34 steps to the post office from the rail road tracks just past the old building.

A right on a small dusty road just two steps past that, but watch out for a strangely placed stack of debris.

Another 18 steps to a small ground floor motel, from the very edge of the concrete, his room was 10 steps.

It was number seven.

The irony and guilt that encompassed his phone made it feel like a lump of hot coal in his pocket.

From what his phone had quietly chirped to him the last time he’d checked, there were another 15 missed calls and messages from Seven. 18 from Jumin, and so many from Rika that it made him physically nauseous to think about it. 

When V shoulders open the door to his room he’s not shocked when the atmosphere changes from wide and sprawling to sharp and cramped. It wasn’t ideal, but it made him feel some kind of way that he felt like embracing.

All of the items from the day are stored on the desk just under a small window located to the right of the door. V thinks there’s a hit of an air freshener, absently he thinks he might leave a photo for the nice house keeping staff who tidy up for him while he’s out wandering.

A sudden vibration races across the wood of the desk just under his finger tips and the hairs on his body stand on end.

All other thoughts were neither here nor there.

V carefully picks up his phone, counts to five, and slides the answer button.

“I’m sorry, was I gone for too long?”


	2. To Chip

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> **** warning for suicidal thoughts and depictions of high anxiety

Mornings were generally a bland affair.

The mechanical pull at the pelvis to hoist him into a sitting position, gently scratchy cotton sheets sticking to his clothes. a few quick swipes at his worn eyes with the sleeve of his shirt, absently restraining a sleepy sigh.

Next his sunglasses, waywardly the blue haired man stumbles out of bed to scoop up the spectacles. Dutifully pivoting and heading straight for the stuffy cracker box of a bathroom located in the back corner of the whole space. 

For the most part of the early day, V makes it a point to not speak. For fear the peace and quiet will be soiled and the gravity of life will crush him. Even under the shades and the damage done to his eyes, he can still make out his frame in the mirror, and think, ‘what a pathetic, frail creature you must come off as.’

Typically V tries to avoid mirrors.

His room is much too small for a kitchenette, but as luck would have it. There was a diner exactly 29 steps right off the porch to the building. They had good coffee, almost zero customers, and never bothered to question why the strange man with blue hair wore sunglasses at the dimly lit counter. 

A routine was a monotonous thing, typically boring, mindless, but it offered comfort. With no change came no unwarranted shifts in mood, no sudden relapses of unwanted thoughts. In the moments of a routine, there is just a light buzz of familiarity and confidence in ones actions.

“Sorry, uh, looks like we’re out of blueberry pie this morning.”

Breaking his golden rule, V speaks at a much too early hour for him to be comfortable. “I’m sorry?”

The figure on the other side of the bar is petite, the light made it hard, but she probably had brown hair. 

“The pie? The one you like? We sort of ran out,” her voice was soaked in a tone that suggested she wasn’t really that sorry. 

“Oh.”

Maybe he was being childish about it, but suddenly V had lost his appetite for everything. He mumbles a quick apology, for what, he wasn’t entirely sure. And makes a swift exit back out into the dirt lot of the diner. 

V struggles with himself for a moment, it feels like he’s on a roller coaster that’s going too fast. Like it has the sensation of rocketing right off the tracks at any moment and leaving him broken in the wreckage. It was quickly plucking at feelings and thoughts he had tried to dam up just the night before. 

Rika had not been happy with him for staying out so late.

Why couldn’t he make her happy?

Why wasn’t he….

Finely tuned ears instantly take note of heavy foot steps drawing near him, they sounded like thick work boots churning the soil. The voice that calls out quickly after is not something V had expected. 

“Hey, are you all right?”

Male, tall, very tall, out of reflex V tosses his head to the source and is quickly startled by just how tall this man is. He outranks V easily, tanned, with hair so red the sun looked as if it made a bloody halo around his head. 

Then of course he has to remember how to push air through his lungs, and reply. 

“Yes, I’m alright thank you.”

Instead of continuing on his way, this man lingers at V’s side. It gets to the point where V can feel his eyes burning holes into his forehead and his palms grow clammy. 

“I heard what you and Emilia were speaking about in there, so I brought you this.”

A small flat square is thrust into his useless hands, with an absent rub at the material, V finds it’s a little container. “What…?”

“It’s pie,” the man fills in, “I ordered the last slice just before you walked in but I hadn’t touched it. You seemed to really care about it, or maybe, it’s just something on your mind.”

There’s no lead in, no pushing, just a casual statement. It sends a chill down V’s spine while the other continues. “Anyway, enjoy it, and don’t mind Emi she can be a bit of a jerk sometimes.” 

The stranger gives a little flick of his wrist, a short goodbye, and makes steady travel back the way he’d come.

In turn V does not move for what feels like eternity and when he does, his joints groan like an ancient machine jostled from its slumber. 

He decides he will go back to the church and sit in it’s leaning shadow.

He would eat the pie and take pictures,

and wonder what it would feel like to be crushed by a solid mass of rotting oak and milky glass windows.

And sleep in the ground careless and free, growing wild flowers through his corpse.

Absently he also thinks he’ll need to remember to grab a fork for the pie. A quick rattle of the container supplies that the stranger had included one in the box. 

Perhaps he should have caught that mans name.

In these moments, the oppressive threat of Rika’s presence could almost be nudged aside. 

Almost.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> V is a little scattered but it is a generally coherent story line.


	3. To Waiver

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> "He becomes so cold he goes numb, the sound has fallen away. All that’s left is not V, but a spirit who doesn’t want a name to a face that can’t bear the responsibilities he’s loaded onto himself."

The newest safety net in his life were the dozens of abandoned buildings that littered the country side.

 

Destroyed, twisted, useless,

 

They gave him hope that he, a kindred spirit, could serve a purpose like they did for him.

 

It was a fresh day, subconsciously his brain supplies it’s been exactly 45 hours since last contact with anyone he knew in depth. The last phone call to go out was to Seven, to assure him everything was fine.

 

Everything would remain fine on a superficial level, he desperately needed to make sure of it.

 

V shakes his head and lifts the viewfinder to his eye, teasing the shutter button and lens piece until a clunky rotting barn focused into clarity.

 

He holds the shutter, counting slowly to five before releasing. With his failing eyes it was never a guarantee that any of his photo’s came out well. The focus helped in these moments but in his situation being cautious was key.

 

The wind decides to pick up then, forcing V to look out upon a swamp of grass, the gales creating a soothing ripple across the top.

 

It was also fairly cold he thinks, a nice chill snipping at his finger tips and nose, lapping over him as if he were part of the field.

 

Maybe he could be, part of it, if he just closed his eyes for a moment and focused.

 

It’s a wonder how long he stills, swaying every now and again when a particularly powerful gust races over the area.

 

He becomes so cold he goes numb, the sound has fallen away. All that’s left is not V, but a spirit who doesn’t want a name to a face that can’t bear the responsibilities he’s loaded onto himself.

 

This soul thinks again of becoming one with the wild flowers when something bumps him.

 

It’s so slight he almost doesn’t register it until it pushes again, harder.

 

And then it licks him and the whole effect is ruined and then it’s V opening his eyes to make out a large brown animal nudging his legs.

 

To be more specific, a dog.

 

“Hello,” he murmurs, not entirely sure what else to do but hold his hand out for it to sniff.

 

A wet nose snuffs at his hand a few times before licking at some grass that had gotten stuck to his fingers.

 

Next a very familiar voice come’s booming over the hillside.

 

“Ah, Willow! C’mere girl!”

 

The dog, Willow, whips its head to the sound before sloppily making some bounding leaps and hops around V. It decides to flop over at his side, laying flush with his leg on its back and a long tongue lulls out in contentment.

 

Painfully familiar boots come to stop just on the dogs other side, V isn’t sure how good this is. However, the man doesn’t sound at all angry, just amused.

 

“Gosh, give a man your pie and he also gets your dog, Willow is a bit of a love bug I hope you don’t mind her.”

 

“Not at all,” his voice is almost muffled by the wind, luckily it covers a traitors tremor in his words.

 

Carefully V clears the nerves from his throat, “I mean, she’s very friendly, I was a bit surprised.”

 

The man squats down and they’re so close, only this warm fleshy wall of fur separating them. It gives V a chance at a clearer look and he thinks, his eyes are green, like Rika’s. Though while hers are a soft pastel, his are like the grass, a rich color, that almost glows in the sun.

 

An itch to photograph this creature nearly over whelms him.

 

Again the stranger ruins V’s train of thought by smiling and patting the dogs chest. “I suppose I should introduce myself. Folks call me Talmin, this is Willow, we’re still working on the whole, come when I call thing.”

 

A twinkle in Talmin’s eye sends a strange shock up V’s spin and in his chest. “Who might you be?”

 

The shock turns into an a thunder storm, fizzling in his veins and flooding his ears with static in a moment of pure panic.

 

Who was he? Was he V, the nomadic photographer with no past and no future, or….

 

Finger tips sweep at blue bangs, forcing V backwards and his gaze to semi focus again. Talmin’s brows are pinched in concern, lips puckered slightly.

 

“Look if it’s an issue why don’t you just use a nickname or somethin? Uh…, I swore I heard you put down your name as V on the hotel log in sheet, want me to use that?”

 

Inhaling deeply, he tries to remember what a therapist he once took Rika to had said during a meeting.

 

_“Place your fist to your mouth and draw in deeply, like sucking through a straw. Count to seven, and exhale. Now do this a few times and slowly remove your hand, just keep counting, in seven, hold seven, out seven.”_

 

Eery green eyes never break contact from his own while he does this, eventually he makes out recognition on the mans face before they count together.

 

_One_

 

_Two_

 

_Three_

 

it was cold again, the sun had begun to skitter off to the side of the sky, casting long icy shadows in the noon.

 

_Four_

 

_Five_

 

fingers clumsily relax

 

_Six_

 

Talmin inclines his head ever so slightly

 

**_Seven_ **

 

V pulls his fist from his mouth and Talmin finally plops down onto the earth, features placid.

 

He is too emotionally drained to feel embarrassed, it’s just empty. Like the jar he’d been jamming every awful thing into had been chipped and decompressed.

 

Talmin’s head tilts away politely, allowing V a moment to shutter a sigh and swipe at his face a few times. Something kicks at his leg, it’s Willow, her happy sloppy grin turning to beam at him.

 

Gentle fingers tussle her chest fur and this is the situation.

 

They are quiet, it’s calmed save the soft yaps and rustling coming from the canine on the ground.

 

Her fur is soothing, like a balm on his frayed nerves, the repetition in stroking from her cheek to her chest helps keep him out of his head.

 

“I’m sorry,” he finally croaks, it’s quiet, but it must carry on the wind because he gets a careful response.

 

“No it’s alright, I’m sorry I caused somethin.”

 

Silence comes to a steady simmer, both of them looking out in the direction of the barn not too far off.

 

“You like takin pictures of these things? These buildings I mean.”

 

V finally pulls his hand away from Willow’s chest so he can begin packing his camera. There’s a small strike of fear that it was damaged in his tantrum, but it’s survived perfectly fine. “I do, I like these sorts of things, the flowers too.”

 

The response is a hum, and then a grunt, and suddenly there’s a hand reaching out to V, Talmin towering over him.

 

“Well then, how about for this incident, we put it behind us and I take you out sometime to show you more places like this. If you’re done here, I’ll drive you back to town right now, it’s getting kind of cold.”

 

No one but Talmin had touched his skin in two months, this is what V realizes when their palms slide together and he’s effortlessly hoisted up.

 

In fact, besides the waitress at the diner, the post lady, and the motel desk attendant, V has been isolated of face to face conversations.

 

The nerves that come alive in fright are what force his hand back quickly. Talmin doesn’t appear to notice, he just turns, wagging his finger and saying in a sing song way at his hound.

 

“C’mon Willow you lazy pup, if you come back to the truck with us then I’ll feed you treats.”

 

‘The truck’ is a large pick up, thoroughly powdered in dust and smeared in dirt, it suited the man who seemed so at one with traversing nature. He loads the three of them into the cab, Willow snugly draping herself over V’s lap on the ride back to town.

 

Talmin is chatting on about something, the pollen perhaps, but all V can focus on is when Willow rolls, he sees one of her back paws, or lack there of.

 

He doesn’t mean to interrupt, but it just sort of comes out, “she’s missing part of her leg.”

 

The red head’s voice catches on a word when he’s startled by the observation, “oh!

 

“Actually,” he explains, “I have to admit, I just got her so I’m not sure for certain how that happened. You see someone from a few towns over couldn’t keep her so I offered to take her or they would have shot her.”

 

A lilt enters his voice, it makes V’s hair stand on end. “I think they did it, she’s so loving, but I think they did it. So I’m going to make sure she’s given the best life possible till the end of her days. She doesn’t really seem to mind that she’s missin it, she’s learned to move and run and do other things, I need to take her to get a prosthetic made so it’s a little easier.”

 

V carefully cradles this large awkward creature and feels a sort of kindred ship with her. Even more so, when she shifts inward to his chest, and snuffs at his shirt.

 

“Can we go out tomorrow?”

 

“Oh?” he’s surprised the man by his selfish request, V’s about to take it back when Talmin gushes in a fit of enthusiasm. “Sure thing! I mean do you want to head out super early or later in the day? I can pick you up at the diner or-.”

 

The rambling is a comfort to V, an uncommon thing, it’s so exuberant and kind, like a light spring breeze.

 

Someone was excited to spend time with him.

 

He was selfish

 

and it was okay.

 

V dips his head and presses it into Willow’s fur, praying quietly that it takes until his death day to get to town, so this moment will never end.

 

The heater isn’t blowing, but V feels warm.

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> why do I keep posting these at midnight, do they even make mild sense idk.


	4. To Roam

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> “I think today’s been a good day,” it surprises both of them when it’s V who says this. But there’s no denial on Talmin’s part, instead a good steady hum greets the statement.

The outing is at the utmost sliver of the sun that begins to scoot its way out from under the horizon.

It’s certainly a welcome change in V’s book. He’s sitting on the edge of the pick up bed, head swaying to the pace of Talmin’s and Willow’s dance.

Perhaps dance was a generous word, even while being twisted and smeared they looked like two sopping wet birds, mushing through the lake Talmin had driven them to. “Please,” the red head gasps, never halting in his steps for fear he’d sink into the clay that lined the lake bottom.

“Please Willow, I need my keys you crazy animal!”

The moments leading up to this had been a work of art that V had wished with a surprisingly fierceness he could have seen in stunning HD.

Talmin had arrived at his door at exactly four in the morning.

For being the one to suggest it, he’d looked about dead on his feet. A strange marionette on jumbled strings trying desperately not to trip over his own two feet and send his thermos flying. Shockingly, it was a present for V.

Coffee

Better than the diners by a land slide and Talmin is all too happy to accept this quiet praise.

Willow also greets him once they crawl into the cab. A big paw batting at his chest to draw attention away from the warm innards of that sacred container. 

Sufficient to say it was a miracle that V hadn’t accidentally thrown coffee all over the inside of the cab as a result.

“Our first stop,” Talmin had said, absently offering Willow a dog cookie as they lazily drifted over a chewed up dirt road. “Is a farm that hasn’t been touched in about seventy years. It’s got that classic feelin you seem to be lookin for, the sunrise on the water top ain’t too bad neither.”

The farm house was gorgeous, a mutilated majesty of shattered windows and crushed support beams. Thick with sunflowers growing even through the floorboards and out some of the open windows.

V couldn’t help but voice his thoughts, “I love it,” he’d whispered. His insides do a little twist when he sees Talmin smile and say quietly, as if to himself “good! That’s what I was hoping.”

That was until they’d gotten out and while the photographer lapsed into his trance, the countryman was accosted by his pet. 

A particularly beautiful frame had just come into focus when it’s full of a big brown dog zooming by, followed poorly by a desperate man. 

This had driven them into the lake, allowing V to take some shots before becoming too engrossed by this live theater masterpiece unfolding before him. Wherever Talmin took a step, Willow was already four hops ahead of him. 

Her feet never truly seemed hindered by the mud, if anything she looked like a bucking mare and Talmin her unfortunate handler. 

Suddenly she plummets into deeper water and yips, and in that moment V’s heart had begun to tremble in his chest. His feet work faster than his mind and before he knows it he’s slid off his perch and is running.

There’s an echo of a bark and tires squealing and Rika’s pained voice soaking through his brain like blood on asphalt. 

V trips before he makes it even ten feet, landing like a doll would, utterly incompetent and uncoordinated. 

It’s another sharp moment that he wishes he could see with fresh eyes.

The world is vastly out of focus, but not so much so that V couldn’t see what was happening out on the water.

Talmin is marching back to him, Willow safely caged in his arms so that she doesn’t attempt to jump before the ground is reliable again.

The marching hastens, and very suddenly the man is at his side, letting Willow slither out of his arms to shake herself off. 

“V, hey are you okay?” 

“I am, I’m sorry, I tripped over…,” he didn’t actually know what he’d tripped over. Looking back at a very large and noticeable blurry brown blob, V can’t truly make it out, his voice drops in shame “I tripped.”

He expects a laugh, but receives careful hands assisting him back to his feet and a carefree,“nah it’s alright. I’ve tripped over plenty of things in my time out walking the fields, branches will get you every now and again.” 

There’s a brief moment when, with hyper awareness, V notices how very gentle the other man’s hands are.

It’s ruined just as suddenly when Talmin releases him, choosing to move to the tripping hazard and throwing it out of the way. 

Maybe it’s the way he makes sure it’s safe to walk or the easy smiles, but something strikes V very sharply in that moment.

What did one talk about at 5:30 in the morning, with a man he just barely met a few weeks prior over a melt down and some pie?

Fingers curled in a spike of nerves, V desperately wracks his brain for something that people who weren’t Seven or Jumin might talk about.

“How are you so calm?”

Wait no, not that….

“What?” the other mans posture looks almost startled, head tipping side to side like a confused dog shortly after. “Not sure I understand what you mean.”

This grave has been carved out by V’s own hands, he attempts to smooth his knuckles over the oversized cardigan draping his frame. “How are you so calm,” those words tasted acidic in his mouth but he fights through the unpleasant tingle. “I was so scared for Willow, but you seemed….”

So calm

Like the fall breeze

Like the water

...

Like a Saint. 

Somehow the taller man is in front of him again, so close that V has no problems making out his facial expressions. Eyebrows pinched, nose wrinkled, a light smile. 

“Darlin I may have looked like I had it under control but I was scared as hell for her. I learned a long time ago that even when you don’t know what you’re doin. Sometimes it helps to pretend like you do, but if you can’t, it’s okay to show that you don’t too.”

Shoulders jut up, head tilting toward the little muddy trouble maker biting at a sunflower stalk, V can only silently appreciate how nice Talmin’s jawline is. 

“Maybe that’s not a good thing,” he relents, “I dunno I don’t try to have all the answers, but it works for me. You look the picture of serene,” “Me?” V can’t help but interrupt, a little sass playing off his tongue quicker than he can swallow, “I’m wearing sunglasses you can’t see half my face.”

Blazing green eyes zero in on his even with those shades on, a wild grin uplifting the strange turn of conversation. “You have some fire in you then, I like it! How’s about I put Willow in the cab to warm up and then I can guide you closer to the house for some more photos?” 

Their height played just at a difference to where the man’s face was fairly detailed, but his hands were too far low to distinguish. V is almost afraid to ask his next question, “did you get your keys back from her?”

“Ah, about that, no…,” they both cringe.

“Good news though! Turns out she sunk my house keys in the lake, so I’ll have to figure out how to get into the house but at least we can still drive around.” 

A noise is startled out of V, maybe it was the delivery of the revelation, or the way Talmin shrugs like breaking into his house was a common thing.

He didn’t know, but some part of it forced rhythmic air out through the blue haired man’s lungs. It makes his shoulders jump, a hand fly up to his mouth to try to stifle it, and tears spring to his eyes when it swells up. 

Laughter.

It had been so long since V had heard his own laugh. It was like a familiar tune from the past coming back to give him a fresh reminder that it was still there, that it actually existed. 

“I,” he doesn’t have the air to properly apologize for the way he’s acting. A quick cough quiets the sound and V tries hard to pretend his cheeks aren’t tinted a light rose.

They both know Talmin see’s it all, there’s a crinkle near the corner of his eyes that softens his face and something in V’s chest at the same time. 

Talmin inhales to speak just as V’s breathing hitches the slightest.

A loud bark and something large hitting their legs soundly interrupts the moment. 

Two pairs of eyes swing low to survey Willow, sitting tall and proud, with a comically large sunflower stalk held between her teeth.

Next to be taken into account is a small patch of suspiciously ruined flowers and drying clay, most likely when she went on a rampage to rip it from the ground.

“I love my dog,” Talmin declares happily, “you can take your sunflower home and we’ll put it in the yard.”

They do end up exploring closer to the house for more shots, and then move on to the next building on Talmin’s list. At some point it becomes something like a game. They would ride down the endless catacomb of dirt roads until either one spotted a run down building or a particularly unusual thing. 

The pick up would be navigated off into the closes field and they would disappear into the thickets like mischievous children. 

At times V pauses to think, to really think, to become one with the grass and the flowers again. But then a hand ensnares his wrist, and something whispers, perhaps not in this moment would he try to be a daisy or a wildflower.

It’s noon when they break for lunch, the pick up parked on a half formed hill with the three of them hiding in the bed peering out into the vast expansion of sky and land.

“So,” the red head begins, a foot nudging a cooler closer to his counterpart.

“We have four different kinds of sandwiches, some spare smoked thick cuts, and soup. Oh, and drinks,” the whole day had helped V gather a better understanding of Talmin. An energetic individual, a kind man with a quirky sense of humor.

But he still wasn’t sure what ‘smoked thick cuts’ meant.

 

Come to find out it’s a meat that’s been smoked in a skin, fully cooked and has cheese in it.

V doesn’t bother to deny it’s delicious. He’s also handed a sandwich and some water while the other paws through the ice for a container of soup.

“Did you make all this?” V wonders, having bitten into his lunch to discover it’s honey and some kind of jam he can’t really identify. “Sure thing, my grandma used to let me help in the kitchen all the time. I can make you a jam from scratch and make damn good deer jerky.”

“I’m sorry?”

“Absolutely nothing.”

Carefully V licks his fingers of residual jam and pretends he’s not thinking about what exactly his travel partner meant.

While Talmin eats his soup and V snacks on another sandwich, they talk of nonsense and comforting whimsy. “When I was a kid,” the red head says at some point, “I tried to jump through a hula hoop like a lion and knocked myself out on a rock.”

“Oh my god,” V gasps out, face flushed delightfully “that’s awful. I once crawled behind a cactus growing against a fence and got stuck trying to photograph it in dynamic light.”

His ears tingle when Talmin chokes on his soup, he finds it’s not a bad feeling. It was nice, like the sound of the taller mans choppy jubilant laughter.

Through their rioting Willow never moves from her crafty position, head resting sideways in her dog bowl so she can eat and sleep as she so pleases.

At some point the inevitable rolls around forcing the both of them back into the cab to continue their journey. Willow sticks to the bed, never once moving her head to acknowledge them or the renewed sway of the suspension on the ground. 

“I think today’s been a good day,” it surprises both of them when it’s V who says this. But there’s no denial on Talmin’s part, instead a good steady hum greets the statement. 

In fact, the humming continues for miles. 

A nonsensical pattern that lulls V the whole way back to town while he flips through his pictures.

There are so many he likes, of flowers and flat lands and a vast range of olden structures.

Of dog paws, and pick up tires, a sunflower jammed out of a cracked window with a happy dog sitting inside, tongue lolling. 

Of a man, standing powerful against the morning sun, back to it, facing the camera with a wide dazzling smile.

He looked truly ethereal.

“Can we do this again, Talmin?” He finds himself mumbling when they slow over the railroad tracks at the mouth to the town. “Or something different even?”

For a second it’s quiet save the humming, and V thinks his request wasn’t heard.

The humming stops abruptly, “of course we can.”

A smile gently kindles V’s features in return.

Rika is not remembered for a few more hours to come.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I have no clue how long this will be and im a teeny bit unhappy with this chapter so if it changes at some point dont be alarmed. but i wanted to thank those who have kudos'd and commented on it, especially you who said this made you feel bittersweet. That summed up a feeling I hadn't been able to place before.
> 
> I hope this continues to be to everyone's liking, any comments, suggestions, or questions are certainly welcomed and encouraged on here or my other two platforms.


	5. To Admit

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> and thus we have come to it

The next several weeks were filled with a camaraderie V had not known since his youth with Jumin. A new friend was always an exciting and nervous thing, a jungle of facts and passions and dislikes to explore and thus you were to them.

V had learned that Talmin had a knack for recruiting animals, four large dogs including Willow and a few cats who ran the house like royalty. The man could ramble and gush for hours about them all, he’d brought each one to life for V by words alone since he’d yet to actually visit the others home. 

He could cook some things here and there, loved to eat soups and seemed to always have a thermos or a tin on hand to present V on their outings. “I’m a mom friend,” he’d admitted in such a way that V was impressed by how bluntly he could say things. An ember of jealously had sparked deep in his lungs by this trait, but it was smothered by the muffin he had been treated to. 

Their half day trips blossomed into over night expeditions out along the dirt paths of the fields. And with every moment more they spent, V had grown more attune to the way this man moved and spoke. It all became just another routine, but when Talmin did a surprising thing, V found he didn’t really mind much. 

“It’s going to get cold soon,” the red head states one afternoon while wandering a withered sunflower patch. They finally stopped to perch like a pair of ruffled sparrows on an old wooden fence, Talmin sounded almost chipper by this fact. 

V was absolutely not enthused.

“What does that mean, it’s already cold,” sometimes it amazed him how differently he could act around a certain individual. A salesman of many masks with finely tuned traits for all. With Rika, he felt like a broken toy, doomed to perform on a damaged stage. Recently with his friends from the RFA, he felt like a familiar stranger, knowing all the little details but never able to truly settle into a conversation.

With Talmin, the only word that fit was, comfortable, like a warm blanket or a favorite book that he could retreat to. In turn that seemed to ignite a sort of sass that he’d kept buried for so long, it was as refreshing to use as it was startling.

His cheek earns him a hearty laugh that is rich and deep and lightly scratchy from the dry winter air. “Oh my friend you haven’t skimmed the surface of a winter this far north,” hands slide through the air like a powerful swimmers stroke, reaching toward the pale gray sky in a grand gesture.

“Soon there will be nothing but ice and snow, the temperature will drop to be truly unbearable. Most planes don’t even fly for the first few months and every wise traveler will wrap their vehicles tires in chains to travel.”

“No one flies?” Perhaps it was the thought that he absolutely could not leave even if he wanted to, but something whispered a quiet sigh of relief inside of V. If he could not get out, then she could not get in.

Wait that’s not a good thing to think.

He cannot tell if his mouth is suddenly dry from nerves or the weather. 

Talmin carries on in a light tone, blissfully unaware of the sour notes chirping in V’s head. “Yup, you’re stuck with me. We’re probably going to have to get you a new jacket too, the one you’re wearing is bullshit.”

Fingers pinch the lip of V’s sleeve, also succeeding in gathering his attention and tugging it back to thoughtful green eyes.

“Why don’t we go shopping today?”

This was uncharted territory, they had twisted and wound across fields and lakes and even the diner a time or two. But a town, a shop, V hadn’t even gone clothing shopping with Rika. She would just buy his clothes and have them shipped. 

The task in itself was nothing special, Talmin had done this so many other times with so many other people. It was a silly thing, but the care, the statements, the thoughtfulness, V could feel his cheeks grow warm and his mouth tingle.

He nods because no words can crawl up and out of his throat.

Still oblivious, Talmin scoops up the hand that had been inside the sleeve he’d taken captive. He threads their fingers together tightly, a thing he’d begun to do when they would go into highly unstable territory. 

“Alright then let’s go to town!”

Town, as V comes to find out, is not the one they stayed in.

There is another about fifteen miles up the asphalt road. It’s perhaps two times the size of their town, with two water towers, and several tiny shops all locally owned. Talmin parks in front of a place that has large animal decals in the windows and tiny bells above a door that’s made of a thick wood. Like someone had taken it off a home and put it on a store front building.

Inside is very much a similar patchwork of a functional store and a cluttered house.

There are letters and picture frames huddled tightly around the cash register. Along one wall is a gradient of items, ranging from yarn skeins to knickknacks. The other holds hooks full of clothing items and shelves of shoes. 

A far off voice calls to them from deeper in the labyrinth of objects. 

“Welcome to Crafts for You! Sorry, I’m stacking boxes but please look around and don’t hesitate to ask if you need anything!”

V is almost certain this isn’t how typical shops are run, but Talmin doesn’t appear bothered by the voice.

In fact, he takes V’s hand once more to brave the mess and responds in kind. “Thanks Charlie, we’ll be lookin at the jackets so you don’t need to rush.”

With the elegance of figure skaters they slide around little racks of scarves and blankets placed with abandon around the center of the room. A larger hand lays on the small of V’s back and guides him closer to the taller man.

“Sorry,” a warm voice says in an absolutely unapologetic way, “it’s a little tight in here. Ah!” V’s back gently meets something like cloth on hangers, at least this is what he assumes it is.

His focus is useless outside of the pattern of Talmin’s shirt and the smell of his cologne. There’s a hyper awareness with every twitch of one of the digits curled into his back.

It takes even Talmin a moment to snap V out of it, he’s forced to untangle their fingers. a few of them come up to tug at the others bangs in a tender gesture.

“Yoohoo? Are you okay?”

No 

“Yes, sorry. I got a little dizzy,” it’s technically not a lie, but it still tastes bitter sweet.

Something in those green eyes translates to uncertainty and for a striking moment V thinks he might be found out.

The moment falls apart when the red head takes a step to the side, reaching into the display of jackets.

“There’s a bench at your knees, why don’t you sit and I’ll pull stuff out to show you?”

V nearly allows his legs to give out onto the bench, his body feels like a tea kettle. Anxiety is the liquid inside, it’s hot, almost so hot it feels cold and spikes wildly but in a strangely good way.

There’s no need to dwell on why this might be good, the implication is staggering. But he inhales, forces the excitement frothing in his throat back down and tries to focus on the jackets behind held before him.

One is a light blue, like his hair, like Her eyes, it’s a jean texture with a second fleece layer on the inside. The other is a dark green, like His eyes in the afternoon, it’s inside is full of a thick fur. Talmin asks a question that V isn’t ready to answer.

“Which one do you like better?”

Who do you want?

Who do you like better?

Betraying no emotion, V asks quietly, “can I try them both on?”

The blue one is passed over first.

To the initial touch it’s soft, a little rough, perhaps quirky is a better word. When it wraps around him, it begins to itch, to feel constricting.

V has to retrain himself from ripping it off and trading it with the green one waiting for him.

This one feels almost broken in, the material pliant under his clenching fingers. When it’s put on, it remains comforting, like a hug from a lover.

It smells of Talmin’s cologne.

It’s getting even harder to see, the close up details of the fur are smearing together into nothingness. 

A pair of gentle hands pulls V’s sunglasses from his face, and he can’t contain the watery quality of his voice.

“I don’t know.”

More tears swarm like hornets, stinging at his eyes and cheeks with a wrath V isn’t sure he’s felt in a long time. 

“I don’t know what I want.”

The inevitable was rising, a question V has been fighting for longer than his time in the great north expanse. 

He is saved from having it voiced just a little longer when those warm hands begin to rub at his cheeks. “It’s okay, you’re okay,” the gentle quality behind every action, the soothing voice, the comforting jacket. The tears come like a tsunami and V is lost in the action, he doesn’t notice when another voice joins in, worried questions like white noise.

The only thing he registers is being bundled against a broad chest and clinging like a child. It’s selfish but it’s like his body is on auto pilot, fingers like rusted iron locks that will not budge no matter how hard V tries.

No

In this moment he doesn’t feel the detached anonymity of V.

Jihyun Kim allows himself to be lifted into the pick up, the fingers he could not operate now removed with a sweetness. Talmin curls each one into Jihyun’s palms, allowing him to further tuck him into a seat. 

The world begins to fall away, free forming thoughts are locked behind an inaccessible wall. Thought is meaningless, there is truly nothing but the push and pull of his lungs. Then, there is a single memory that slips through. It’s so old, it was nearly forgotten, but it remains, and begins to whisper its story. 

…...

…………..

When they were children, there had been an alley cat.

Jumin had spotted him first, he was a large black lump huddled up in some bushes they had been walking by. His expression was grumpy, as if the weight of many deep questions lay heavily on his mind.

To Jihyun he looked like he was contemplating poetry. That day they had been told a rather dark American poem, about a raven and a man driven to madness. 

When they discovered he was rather friendly, they had agreed to call him Edgar. 

He lived with Jumin and wanted for nothing. There were satin pillows for him to lounge on, gourmet cat food and catnip around the clock.

They had him for nearly a year when Jumin called one day in a panic. He pleaded with Jihyun to skip school so they could go to the vet, their furry friend was acting strange.

The patient room was frigid when the vet softly informed them of his rapidly declining health. Words were thrown around that escaped Jumin and Jihyun’s understanding, the severity of the situation however was crushing.

They’re led back out to the waiting room, gray and teal eyes watch a small candle being lit on a counter top by a sympathetic nurse.

Out of instinct, Jihyun began to cry.

Edgar does not step out of the room

Edgar does not lounge on the satin pillows or roll in catnip on the expensive rugs in Jumin’s house.

He becomes a taboo that they do not discuss for fear of questions they could not comprehend.

Gradually they began to look less to the pillows, the treats had long been discarded. They soon forget the spot they’d first crossed paths with him. 

The old black alley cat became a ghost of regret and of love, doomed to knot their insides when all else fell away. To remind them of other staggering things one does not want to face.

…………

…………………..

On the outside, there is movement, a body unlocking itself from its mental trap.

V tips his head toward the reaching sun beams to the east, and a traitorous little thought slips into the back of his head….

'what if you don't love Rika?'

His whole world crumbled shortly after.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> sorry for being gone for so long. As we all know it's bad times everywhere right now. 
> 
> this fic will continue for certain, it has much more to share. the writing style will probably change with the shifts, i hope its still okay.
> 
> I love all my dear readers very much.


	6. To Plummet

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Who Are You?

At the beginning of the universe there is a theory of a sudden cosmic implosion, and thus life promptly after. They say it was probably a thing of horrible beauty that not a mortal could comprehend.

Rika was like the birth of life, steadily collapsing in on herself to end what she had started.

The end of Jihyun’s world is of another implosion, one that brings him back to the void. It feels of fire and blood and screaming, someone is screaming.

There’s so much screaming and no oxygen.

Why isn’t there any air?

There is a sharp pain that cuts through the darkness, blue eyes snap open and the world is a frenzied kaleidoscope of nonsense.

No it was not nonsense, he had opened the door while Talmin was driving. 

The screaming was Talmin, sound thunders its return to Jihyun’s eardrums just as a truly terrified voice shrieks. “V! V for fucks sake close the door!”

Next to be taken into account was motion, was actions. There is a fist white knuckling the back of the jacket he’s still wearing. Did Talmin pay for it?

The door is still open, focus.

He cannot focus, he just watches blankly as asphalt and grass swim by his view like sloppy smearing paint. Words are lead, thought is shards of glass, air is fire, a mix between a gurgle and a whimper is about all he can manage.

It’s a disgusting sound, it reminds Jihyun why he preferred not to face the man behind V’s mask. 

A sharp pain like nettles ripples along his forehead and suddenly there is a house in view, Talmin has stopped the truck sharply in the yard. 

The world sloshes around, nothing is right, all of those nasty thoughts once kept at bay are now ablaze in his veins. 

Rika was horrible.

Rika was mean.

He was so tired.

He wanted to be selfish.

He couldn’t take care of both of them.

He wanted to go home.

Where is home?

What is Home?

Rika…

 

 

Is a Monster. 

 

 

Is He A Monster Too?

 

Jihyun is screaming.

Before he knows what’s going on he’s slipped out of the jacket and has managed to fling himself out onto the withering grass. The impact forces rocks to bite and rip at his skin, but it doesn’t matter, it didn’t hurt. It could never be anything compared to the snake that had swallowed his heart and writhed in his stomach. 

There is a coal in his pocket, it’s got to be smothered, it needs to be quiet, it’s screaming too.

He rips his cellphone out of his pocket when he’s managed to rise, like a phoenix from the ash of his collapse. Talmin is shouting something, but Jihyun can only focus on the way the metal of his phone shimmers as it’s launched through the air.

It’s like a shooting star, doomed to explode, it’s falling and dying, let it take his pain with it.

“Fuck!” A voice roars near his ear, “fuck V stop!” 

Heavy arms cage Jihyun into a chest and he fights, ‘don’t! I have to get rid of it!’ is what his eyes try to say. There is only a mindless jumble of sobbing that erupts from his mouth.

Rika hurt so many people.

Rika brainwashed Saeran.

Hiding behind being V was a cowardly move, Jihyun was a coward. Even now, casting out his phone like it was a demon, he is just a coward who is trying to run from the truth.

“Without her” 

Is that his voice?

“Without her, who am I?!”

“You’re you! With or without her! Who the hell is she?!” Talmin sounds so confused, he should be, Jihyun never brought Rika up. She was Edgar, a taboo, a bad omen, a curse of bitter sweet love.

“I’m not V,” he chokes out, “I’m Jihyun, I don’t want to be V.”

The iron grip waivers when the shorter male finally exhausts himself. The fight is nothing more than dying embers now. Jihyun slumps fully against this man, this stranger who knew and yet did not truly know. This friend, who was sure to cast him aside now that he’d witnessed the peak of the storm that had been churning inside Jihyun for years. 

This beautiful creature, who was the catalyst for a change he had hoped would never come.

A soft warm sigh tickles the hair on the back of his neck, one arm releasing him and suddenly the blue haired man is being carried like a princess. 

“Jihyun,” his breathing stops when that name crosses stressed lips.

“why don’t I make you some soup? Willow has missed you.”

He can’t respond properly, another pitiful whimper bubbles out as Talmin carries him through a screen door with a broken lock. The living room on the other side is tight, full of long couches that hug the walls and corners. They provide a space for a clan, and in kind is filled with such, just not one of the human variety.

Willow is the canine at attention, her head tracking every movement Talmin makes to the couch she’s on. “Willow, Jihyun is hurt, you protect him okay?” When he goes to place the other down onto the cushions, Jihyun watches his own traitorous hands dig into the red heads shirt. 

“Hey,” the voice that’s being used, is so gentle, it’s so kind, it scares him.

The truth is a sickness and Jihyun vomits words.

“Am I weak? Do you think I’m disgusting? I don’t know how to be brave like you.”

Air catches just above him, and it feels like the void again. The anxiety, the fear, the blood, it’s boiling, he’s really said something stupid.

Something soft presses to his face, it’s a nose, a pair of lips kiss just at the corner of one of his eyes. “I don’t think my opinion should be the final word on you as a person. I didn’t create your personality, or your actions, and I can’t dictate them. But if you really want to know what I’ve seen.”

Hands gather up Jihyun’s face, cradling it like he’s cupping something fragile. Jihyun is sure he isn’t breathing again. 

“I’ve seen a very loving person, a secret spitfire, a gentle soul. I see a kind heart, not a weak one, a brave one. Just because we aren’t alike doesn’t mean we can’t both be brave.”

The next time tears come, there are warm fingers and a wet nose to nudge them away. Talmin is finally released when Willow eagerly offers herself in his place. She’s not as warm, but her body weight was a crushing comfort that Jihyun welcomes.

She smells like the earth, of grass and dirt and a hint of something strange, unnatural, probably dog cookies. 

Eyelids draw closed when he presses his face to her throat, desperate to try to calm his weeping heart. 

Rika had once been his sun, when had he become so afraid of the light?

When did the sun beams start to eat at his flesh?

Talmin is doing something, it sounds like he’s closing the door and rushing around on the wooden floor. 

There’s a zig to the left, a zag to the right, it reminded Jihyun of rain. An almost steady lolling rhythm in tune with Willow’s breathing. 

…..

A hesitant hand brushes at his hair.

“Jihyun? Did you fall asleep?”

No he hadn’t, he’d slowly allowed his mind to collapse into a sandpit of placidity. There had been nothing but the steady count of their breathing and the little jingles of Talmin’s movements.

Now reality was nudging at him, Talmin its unknowing keeper. “I’m awake,” he says, shoulders crinkling upward when his voice comes out rough and gritty. If it’s noticeable, it’s not pointed out. 

A tiny sigh that almost sounds like “good,” escapes the taller male and he plops down on the couch with them. When silence creeps back in, it’s not unpleasant, but it’s unfamiliar, Talmin is worrying his lip.

This time, Talmin takes it upon himself to speak first.

“I don’t think I know as much about you as I thought I did.” His words are soft, factual, Jihyun feels guilty that they also sound unsure. 

“I mean,” Talmin adds quickly, “I understand if there’s some stuff you don’t want to talk about. But it sort of sounds like you may need to?”

Jihyun expects himself to become afraid, instead he unearths his face from Willows fur and presses it into Talmin’s shoulder. The scent is worlds apart, Talmin is not earth, he is water.

His cologne is the first distinct flavor, the next is a hint of the grass after a rainstorm, like a misty pine forest.

Whatever he might have responded with, it doesn’t fester in his thoughts. Sleep however, whispers to Jihyun like an old friend and he accepts the greeting.

When Jihyun dreams, it’s not about maidens of fire who scorch the earth with tears of hatred. But of giants made of rotting wood and sunflower stalks looking to the sky and cosmic guardians who plummet to earth in a brilliant display of dying stars.

He dreams of taking pictures of Talmin in the grass, of what his facial features may look like. Eyes slanting toward the camera, a light playful smile, one eyebrow raised.

“What are you doin darlin?”

 

 

Jihyun is not sure he can be V again.

He is not sure he wants to be.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Sometimes, when you are forced to a cross road as large as leaving a lover it can feel like the world is ending.
> 
> Maybe it is, maybe that world is ending, but rest assured a new one will be born in it's place no less vibrant and incomprehensible as the last. 
> 
> I'm alright, just considering the past.
> 
> I have a secret, this fic reflects a lot on personal feelings, people, and places.
> 
> Would anyone like a playlist for this fic? I'm thinking about making one.
> 
> I hope you like it, I love You all.

**Author's Note:**

> Hello!! this is a bit nontraditional, this is a story about V meeting someone (our 'mc' for this story) while out on one of his trips. He realizes a few or maybe a LOT of things as they slowly begin to talk.
> 
> I'm not used to MM fics tbh, I mainly dabble in boku no hero academia, so I hope y'all like my first try! 
> 
> [tumblr](http://asmoltov.tumblr.com/)   
>  [twitter](https://twitter.com/volpiepunch)
> 
> Thank you for taking a look, I hope everyone has a fabulous day!


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